Peering into the Fog

(I love to write and want to be a better writer.  I am working on some assignments that will hopefully help me be more disciplined and focused so I can grow in this area.  Writing is one of my passions, but it is also "work" and perfectionist tendencies can get in the way of progress.)

Assignment #4 is to write something.. anything.. and then make it public.  That means no slipping it into a drawer or leaving it in a private email to go back to later on and "perfect!"  That's the purpose of this blog post.  So after a brief  vacation and a little dose of history (which I LOVE,) this is what is on my mind...

There is a kind of mystery surrounding the passing of time, an intrigue that tugs my curiosity.  I feel the inertia of fascination pulling me toward the people and places of times past, like a child on tiptoes peeking through a window, pressing in close and looking hard beyond the glass-- what I see is untouchable but irresistible.  What would it have been like to have been a part of that "other" world, a world distant and blurry to me but so "real" to those living in it?  I feel the warmth of a summer day, shaded by a porch roof, a breeze so light it could have been imagined, and through the screen door, laughter, as my children dip watercolor brushes into paint.  And even as I take all these things in, another part of me is pressing into the glass of another time and trying to conjure up images of people I have never met, straining to "experience" what it must have been like for "them."

This early summer, it is the same story that swept away my imagination, as a girl, that is coming to life again in the breezes and blue skies.  The story of  a young Indian girl who found herself part of an adventure she had not looked for.  By some strange twist of fate, or more likely by God's creative hand, she was floating down the Missouri River, a key player in an exploratory venture that would open up the west and carve her name and the names of those who traveled with her deep into American History.  And deep into the imagination of those, like myself, who know they can never look into her eyes but can't stop peering into the fog of the past to "see" what it must have been like, what she must have felt and thought.  It isn't enough for me to learn general facts.  I want to know what emotions swirled around in her when she was chosen for this treacherous journey into the unknown, and expecting a baby at the same time.  I want to know what she saw on any particular morning when she opened her eyes to begin a new day.  Did light on the horizon draw anticipation for what might be ahead or was there anxiety about her responsibilities and all that was involved, physically and otherwise, as part of this unprecedented venture?  What did Sacagawea think about when night fell and the fire became only embers, when conversation died down and there were only night sounds or silence?